To Grow Up
by Rotom
Summary: Eevee aren't supposed to die...yet this unfortunate one does.


Hey, hey! Thanks for all your kind reviews on the Flower-Blossom story! I appreciate it. I'm still unsure of how this place operates...but I'll get the hang of it soon enough. As for the suggested possibility of a sequel? The thought hadn't crossed my mind, but now that I see it, it is possible. I already have a sort of plan in my head. While I'm at it, do you think this story would be well with a sequel? Once again, thank you kindly for the reviews!

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon, Eevee, Arceus, Mew, or any other Pokemon seen or mentioned in this fic.**

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A fuzzy brown ear twitched once…twice… Finally it twitched a third time, and the young Pokemon to which it belonged to looked up with misery in his underage eyes. His coconut eyes, which used to dance with liveliness and happiness, were utterly empty as he scanned the cold room that he was housed in.

The walls and ceiling were the same endless shade of gray. It matched his mood perfectly as he peered over his small bed to look at the sterilized tile floor. Staring back up at him was a painfully perfect image of himself-an elegant brown-furred creature with a fluffy, bushy tail tipped in white which matched his short, white, untrimmed mane.

His reflection on the floor continued staring at him. It frowned when he frowned; it smiled when he smiled; it growled when he growled. It was like a mirror…a perfectly _shattered_ mirror.

"It's not fair," The young Eevee complained aloud to nobody. The hospital was eerily silent except for the occasional beeping from the IV that was buried under his neck. "It's just not fair."

He curled back up on the cold bed. He didn't feel ill, really. He wasn't vomiting. He wasn't running a skyrocket fever. He wasn't even sneezing or coughing. Why'd he have to be here?

"It's not fair…" The Eevee repeated, gazing at a portrait on the wall containing the three beings of life-Uxie, Mesprit, and Azelf. "You guys…why'd you let this happen? Why'd Arceus let this happen?"

There was no response from anything or anyone. Two unoccupied rolling chairs lay beside his bed, lined up perfectly along the wall. His trainer and mother had sat there two hours earlier. The trainer had left to go to Solaceon for a job capturing Pokemon. His mother was a beautiful, warped pink version of him-an Espeon. She, too, had left, but to search for a blanket to cover her ailing son.

"It's not fair," He repeated for the fourth time, curling his shivering tail around his body to preserve what warmth was left. "Arceus…Mew…please, don't do this to me...I beg of you…"

One would think that the immature Eevee was mentally insane, but he wasn't. Just five weeks before he initially started failing, a nurse had left a cryptic message on his trainer's answering machine stating simply that his Eevee needed to come to the hospital. Immediately.

It was a result of childhood lab tests and vaccinations that initially mounted the Eevee's ill discovery. They'd thought it was a simple check-up, he and his trainer. They were deathly wrong…in the literal term. His healthy young Eevee was very sick. He had a rare form of a disease-he was suffering from advanced heart failure and would likely die within the next two months.

So the little Eevee was dying.

"It's not_ fair_!" He repeated, this time in hatred.

The Eevee's mind was a swirling mess of emotions-anger, sadness, loathing, apathy…but smothered all over it was fear. Why'd Arceus decide to kill him off and let the vixens and scourges of the world live? He'd done nothing wrong. He'd tried to listen to his worried mother and father; he'd been nice to strangers and friends alike; he helped out others when he could, and he even tried to get good grades in a school that didn't exist. He'd done nothing wrong.

So why'd Arceus decide to bestow upon him this terrible curse on his body? He still had a life to live. He was barely a year old with the mind of an anguished child. He wanted to grow up, to evolve into one of his seven ancestors ranging from Espeon to Vaporeon…not to die as a young spirit of the earth. He wasn't prepared to be covered in six feet of dirt, not yet, not at his age.

He needed to grow up. He needed to complain about his future wife's terrible mood swings. He needed to go through a mid-life crisis. He needed to grow old and see his grandchildren. He needed to see one last sunset… Arceus wasn't going to grant that wish, not today, not yesterday, and definitely not tomorrow…The Pokemon Center had predicted he'd die around three the next morning.

The Eevee's sorrowful eyes glanced at the red clock on the wall for a brief moment, but turned away. He didn't want to see what time it was. Every second was ticking away…tick-tock…tick-tock…Dialga must've hated him, too. His seconds and minutes upon the earth were depleting rapidly without any control. His internal clock was disintegrating, too. He was still dying.

He'd do anything to evolve just before he died. It would be embarrassing to go to the Hall of Origin as a simple, basic Pokemon, hardly older than one year of life. He certainly couldn't battle; the doctors and nurse were too afraid to even let him leave his room. What was the point? He was going to die anyways, and he'd rather die under a soft sunset sky, relaxed against the soft green grass.

"Why me…?"

He was curious about how it felt like to leave the earth, but he wasn't ready to find out until he was much, much older. Did he just convulse and die? Did he go delusional with fear of the approaching doom? Did he fall into psychosis until it was time? Did he pass out and go in his sleep?

"Mama…I'm scared…" He wailed silently, holding his ears, his brown orbs filling with salty tears. He tried to grind them back in. Getting too excited or upset would only speed up his death process. "Please…come back before…" The frightened soul couldn't bring himself to finish, and his body was wracked with hopeless sobs.

He'd never given much thought on what he'd like to be when he grew up. The Eevee could choose from all kinds of types and ways. Everyone in his family already evolved into some cool evolution-the voice of the darkness, Umbreon; the silent, graceful mermaid, Vaporeon; the blizzard guardian, Glaceon; Dear Giratina, there was so much to choose from. Yet he'd never get to see that chance. He'd be a disgrace to his family, dying at a young age like this, dying as pre-evolution, dying alone…

The tears fell freely from his face as he openly cried. This just wasn't fair! He repeated his three word sentence that was met with a chilling silence, and then tried to control his thinking as he glanced at the clock. Red letters illuminated the darkness as they read: 2:17AM. No! Time was going by too fast!

"Please, Arceus, please…I've done nothing…spare me…"

He sniffed loudly. His Auntie Della was a graceful Flareon. She basically looked like an older Eevee, what with the same bushy tail and mane and the cute eyes. The only difference was a short puff of fur on her head and a different color palette, being of red and yellow. She was an amazing Fire-Type. She could spit a large Flamethrower that would make an Arcanine faint. The Eevee never actually knew when she had a fever...Her body temperature always soared beyond belief.

"I want to live…"

Then there was Jolteon, a spiky-furred yellow version of himself. They were so graceful and swift, despite not having a tail to balance their actions. Electricity never harmed them in any way; instead it healed them like they were a rechargeable battery. They were so powerful, able to shoot out nearly 10,000 watts of electricity with the blink of an eye. Their fur always was spiked due to the negatively charged ions in the fur which reflected off of each other…

"I want to see another day..."

Vaporeon, yes…the water-angel, Vaporeon. They were like a fish version of Eevee, complete with the tailfin and gills that enabled them to live on both land and sea. It was amazing how they could simply melt away into water like they never existed in the first place and then reappear two weeks later, walking on water as sharp as they always had been.

"…Mama…"

The Sun Pokemon, Espeon. Why, his own mother was an Espeon herself, and she was beautiful. His father was lucky to pick a glorious pink Pokemon like her. The scarlet gem only symbolized her beauty, complementing her royal violet eyes. Espeon were so graceful…they were a Psychic-Type and could manipulate things with their will-the minds of others, levitating objects…hey; they were even able to see into the future with their forked tail.

"…Please…?"

The counterpart of Espeon, Umbreon. The black-furred, yellow-ringed Dark-Type Pokemon was utterly amazing…they were so patient with the ability to stalk their prey at night. Their glorious rings glowed as the waves of the moon struck them. The crimson eyes were a shadow of the tamed darkness in their heart. They could spray poison when they were agitated, striking fear into anyone they pleased.

"Truly…"

The glacial protector, Glaceon. They were these cunning fox-like creatures with pale-blue fur and the ability to shoot ice within a millisecond. What with the protective fur, they couldn't be touched when agitated…it was an excellent defense mechanism. They were the guardians of ice and snow, of winter and crystals, of negative degrees and chills…elegance was the only calm around them.

"…Let me stay, Arceus…"

Then there was a clean Grass-Type evolution, Leafeon. The verdant Pokemon was the colors of the earth, having beautiful tan fur and darker paws in contrast to the stunning lime color of the crescent upon their forehead. The green-tipped ears and tail always glowed under the flourish of sunlight, which in turn provided photosynthesis enabling them to go for days without eating…and in turn, still signify the glory of the fresh heir of their spirits.

"Where are you…?"

Throughout his scattering memories, the Eevee had been growing weaker and weaker, his voice growing more desperate with each sentence. Where was his trainer? His mother? Was he going to go to rest…alone? No. He was to live. He had too…for his sake, for life's sake, for his family's sake…

His body didn't obey, and it failed alongside his faltering vision. The Eevee caught one last glimpse of the shining clock on the wall. 3:02AM. As his eyesight began blurring and his body refusing to respond to his actions, he settled himself down, one last thought skimming his mind.

_No, not yet, not yet, not yet…let me see my Mama…Mama, I need you…_

He was ready to cry, but if he did…he'd die all too soon…well, sooner than it was meant to be. As his breaths began faltering, he tried to think, much more than before. This wasn't right. If only those humans were able to transplant organs from other Pokemon to ailing Pokemon, he'd still be alive. Worse of all, they'd stripped him of his innocence.

The Eevee silently closed his eyes, straining to hear for the sound of a nurse to rush to his aid. He heard none…It was funny how an organism knew when they were going to die…

He'd been rotting in this prison for a long time…and his consciousness waited until now to begin deteriorating itself…for those five weeks trapped in his own mental and physical nightmare, he'd been perfectly fine. The death doctors had accurate predictions…he was relaxing against his will… just two hours earlier he'd been fine.

_Please, Arceus…where is Mama…?_

There was no response. The darkness circling around in his intimidated mind faded to an even deeper shade of black. The noises lowered in volume, yet increased in pitch as his body detached itself from time and space.

_I'm not ready to die…Mama…I'm sorry…_

The words kept playing over in his mind like a broken record: _I'm sorry, Mama. I'm sorry, Mama. I'm sorry, Mama…Forgive me…_

He remained frozen like that. The incoherent noises grew louder. The invisible sight grew brighter. The unseen touch faded. The misplaced scent of saline and medicine disappeared. The terrible taste of drugs in his mouth vanished. There was nothing for a brief, silent moment.

He felt weightless. The hospital room was gone. So was the bed. The IV had removed itself from his neck, and the various bruises from needles were no longer there. The broken, weak, unkempt body was fully restored to its previous glory. The Eevee seemed to be hovering over nothing…and yet…as the Eevee opened his eyes again…

He knew he was with everything…


End file.
